Distractions
by prozacgirl
Summary: He wanted her; that much was true. But it confused and astounded him to no end that she would want him. Quinn wasn't shy so much as avoidant with women, but this woman - this Sith Lord – was the epitome of power and might. She was also the embodiment of beauty and grace and those were things he had never seen combined. It was like staring into the sun. Mature. LS SW/Quinn.
1. The Impracticality of Armor

Sevign, Lord of the Sith, lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling of the medical bay. Quinn bent over her, his brow furrowed as he dabbed wet gauze on a particularly nasty laceration on her side. There was plenty of blood, but he was used to seeing it, although he felt a jolt of unease when he realized that the cut was quite deep. He stole a glance up at the Sith Lord's face. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing normally – a meditative state that she often entered while he worked to heal her wounds.

She wasn't bothered by pain, even though he knew this must have hurt like hell. He quickly reached for the kolto gel, broke the blister pack and began to fill the wound with it before the bleeding started again. He felt her jump slightly, and she caught her breath.

"Apologies, my Lord," he said. "The wound is deeper than I thought."

She casually waved her hand, indicating that there was nothing he needed to apologize for. He finished his work with a permeable bandage to allow the wound air flow and prevent maceration.

"I'd like to give you something for the pain," he said, reaching for an injector.

"That will not be necessary, Captain," she replied, swinging her legs over the bed and sitting up. She flattened her palm over the now-dressed wound. "Excellent work, as always," she said with a slight smile that looked suspiciously like a grimace.

Quinn looked troubled, however. "My Lord, may I speak freely?"

Sevign chuckled at his continued persistence at formality. "Of course, Quinn."

The Captain took a quick breath. "Your armor, my Lord. It seems rather, _impractical_."

The Sith looked down at herself, and then back up at Quinn, a smile playing on her lips. "In what way, Captain?"

Quinn frowned; he knew very well she understood without explanation, but she apparently was going to make him say it. He cleared his throat.

"For starters, you wear no helm. Your neck and head are completely vulnerable," he said. When she gave no response, he continued. "Secondly, your…midsection is completely exposed, and a great portion of your legs are as well. You are far too…_exposed_," he said, stumbling over his words. He braced himself for the witty response that was sure to come.

There was delight in her eyes, however.

"Do you find my armor…distracting, Quinn?"

He stared at her as though the question didn't make sense. "No," he said, too quickly.

Smirking, she asked another question. "But, isn't it attractive on me?"

Quinn looked incredulous. "I-I suppose it is, my Lord, but that's hardly the point of armor! It is supposed to protect your body, not showcase it!"

Sevign stood from the table and took a step closer. "You're afraid I'll get hurt."

"_Yes_. Yes, my Lord. Every time you go into battle, I fear that you may sustain wounds that I cannot heal. You make my job all the more difficult by not wearing proper armor. You should be covered from head to foot in heavy steel," he said quickly. "I fear failing you, and you're not exactly making it difficult."

Surprising him, she reached up with a gloved hand and touched his face, stroking his roughened cheek. Her eyes slid to half-mast as her eyes roamed over his face. "I have complete confidence in you, Quinn. You're an exceptional medic and deadly with a blaster."

The moment seemed to stretch out; his eyes betrayed his confusion and excitement at her touch. Her hand fell away, and he blinked. He released a breath; not realizing he'd held itt. His heart bounded in his chest. What had just happened?

She released him from her gaze. "The armor I wear wasn't selected at random, Quinn. I'm fully aware of its ability to cause distractions. That is one of the reasons I wear it. I have found that men – who make up the majority of my foes - make assumptions when they see a woman showing a lot of skin. They are quite mesmerized by bare skin. It makes them think about things other than fighting. And for a moment, I have the upper hand. And a moment is all I need."

Quinn blinked and shook his head. Sevign smiled. "When they see me, they think of sex. They think of a helpless, tiny female. I'm no warrior. I'm no bringer of death. I'm a plaything." She chuckled. "And those sorts of thoughts make them feel overconfident. Powerful."

The Captain wasn't aware that his mouth had fallen open whilst she was speaking. He was quite aware that his trousers had become uncomfortably tight.

"Women have a power that few of them ever realize. It is a weapon that I make full use of. My enemies underestimate me. By the time they realize they've realized their mistake, it's too late," she said with a sly smile.

The Captain swallowed hard, and then cleared his throat as he tore his eyes away from Sevign. He stood and turned abruptly, back to his table of instruments and supplies and rummaged through them needlessly.

"I see your point, my Lord. Of course, that rationale only applies if your enemies happen to be heterosexual males and not droids, females or aliens that don't fancy you…"

Sevign grinned and slid off the table. She noticed how Quinn's shoulder's tensed as she approached him.

"Well, if they all had such a weakness, I wouldn't need you, Captain." Sevign moved in close; her body very gently brushing his back. He drew in a breath as her hand wrapped around his upper arm and slid up to his shoulder. "Would I?"

Quinn felt her breath against his ear and felt lightheaded. "I suppose not, my Lord."

He felt her push herself up on her tip-toes, so that her mouth was directly behind his ear and her breasts nudged his shoulder blades. If he ever had anything to make fun of her about, it was that she was so short. "And," she breathed into his ear, "isn't it good to be needed?"

_The minx_, he thought to himself as he suppressed a violent shudder. But a moment later, he felt her stiffen, along with a painful hiss. When he turned, she was clutching her side again.

He didn't wait for her invitation before bending to look at the dressing, which now had a patch of fresh, bright blood spreading over it.

"_Oh, brilliant_," he moaned, "you've pulled the kolto packing loose and you're bleeding again. Lie down before you hemorrhage to death."

She sighed and acquiesced. "It was worth it to hear your heart crashing against your ribcage like that. I barely touched you." She laid down flat and closed her eyes. Quinn ignored her, which was easy to do when he was doing medical work. His hands and his eyes had a purpose. But he received no small amount of pleasure from this task when he was tending her. He felt perfectly justified in touching her almost anywhere and asking her to remove clothing when it seemed necessary.

It was when the work was done that Quinn found it hard to know what to do with himself. Looking into her eyes seemed a deep and dangerous territory, and he feared that he would never be able to look away if he stared too long.

Quinn enjoyed being the man that accompanied her, supported her, and lent her his opinion when asked. He watched her, studied her, _memorized_ her. But in the silence and privacy of the ship, when she really turned on the charm, he found himself frozen like a pubescent boy.

He wanted her; that much was true. But it confused and astounded him to no end that she would want _him_. Quinn wasn't shy so much as avoidant with women, but _this_ woman - this Sith Lord – was the epitome of power and might. She was also the embodiment of beauty and grace and those were things he had never seen combined. It was like staring into the sun.

It was inconceivable that she'd want _him_ for more than a plaything. She wasn't cruel by any means, but that was the only explanation. She had a craving for a stiff Imperial officer and Quinn fit the bill. That was all.

But, he asked himself, wouldn't it be worth it? Even if it was just once and she never looked at him again…?

He finally decided it wasn't, because such a situation could ultimately put his position on the crew at risk. He wanted to be doing this – by her side, doing _this_ – for as long as he could serve. That was more important than sleeping with her.

His groin ached in protest of this thought.

He finished applying her bandages in silence. When he finally looked up at her face, Quinn found that she had been staring at him with a quiet expression on her face.

"Healing the sick and injured," she said quietly. "Do you know what that means, Quinn? You're a god among men. And to me, you're my savior. Every day, every hour that we fight together, you're by my side, keeping me strong."

He stared at her, struck by her words. The moment stretched out.

She extended an arm and he grasped it, helping her into a sitting position. As she came upright, her other hand reached out and pulled him into a surprise kiss.

He didn't fight her; he didn't pull away. As her mouth moved against his, he merely accepted its onslaught graciously, not too eagerly, but welcoming. He heard her soft sigh and her delicate fingers on either side of his face, and he gasped involuntarily, encouraging her to deepen the kiss.

It seemed like minutes passed like this; he pulled away slowly, his eyes opening and focusing on her. His mind felt frozen in this moment; he was still trying to process the fact that after months of flirting innocently with him, she had now taken another step towards claiming him.

Quinn had to be real with himself; he had been claimed since the moment she sauntered into his office on Balmorra. She smiled softly.

"If I could only move without destroying your work, I'd have you right here, right now,"

Quinn was barely aware of her gently stroking his hair; his cheek. His eyes settled on hers with an expression of confusion mingled with desire. He mumbled something about a pain hypo, and she laughed; it was a deep, sensuous noise that made his head swim.

He opened his mouth to speak, to say something…_anything_ to let her know that he was willing to be whatever she wanted, wherever she wanted. He had to kiss her again, had to touch her again and now was the moment…

A loud commotion broke Quinn out of his spell as Lieutenant Peirce lumbered into the medical bay dragging a piece of his armor behind him. He looked up in surprise to see Quinn and Sevign, standing too close to be anything other than intimate. Sevign's hand fell slowly away from Quinn's face; the Captain moved away quickly and picked up a handheld scanner.

Peirce mumbled an apology to the Sith, which she acknowledged with a nod of her head and looked away. Quinn looked up at the door, hoping to see Peirce's departure, but he lingered for a moment in the doorway, long enough to throw Quinn a murderous look.

Moments later, there was shouting coming from the crew quarters that sounded suspiciously like Vette ordering Peirce to knock before bursting into the refresher and Peirce shouting back that she wasn't in possession of anything he hadn't already seen.

Sevign smiled at Quinn. "There'll be talk…"

He acknowledged this with a silent nod.

"You should get some rest, my Lord."

She sighed and slid off the table. "Yes, I think I will. We should continue this later, Quinn."

"Agreed, my Lord."

As she walked out of the medical bay, Quinn noticed the sag in her shoulders, and the delicate way she took the steps. Why she refused pain medication was something he'd never understand, and he practically had to order her to sleep. He shook his head. _We should continue this later, Quinn…_

His heart thudded against his ribs at the thought of "continuing" what had just happened. Was it anticipation? Fear? Dread? Or excitement?

He decided it was all of those things and more. His head told him it was a bad idea, but there were other parts that staunchly disagreed. He usually proceeded into anything unknown with extreme caution, but he wasn't sure if that was possible in this case. Either he dove in head first with all that he was, or he refused, and it all ended.

It wasn't that he didn't like an aggressive woman (he clearly did); it was just that he now felt a sense of doom – in what way would this end up that could be good for him? He shook his head. _Maybe_, he told himself, _you just think too bloody much. For once in your life, ignore the fucking committee in your head and just go for it. Don't think about what may or may not happen. _

Hours later, he lay in his bunk and tried to review reports on datapad, but when he could find nothing of interest, he picked up a book instead. When that couldn't even hold his attention, he resigned himself to staring at the datapad screen while listening to the noise around him.

The crew quarters were more than he could bear at times. Vette, Peirce, Jaesa and Quinn shared the large room, sleeping, dressing and socializing. Peirce seemed to enjoy being cooped up with two women, and mostly ignored Quinn, which was why it surprised him to hear Peirce address him.

"You're dead smart. She likes that in a bloke. Can't say I'm surprised to see that she's taken an interest, but I'd hold off on picking out baby names if I were you," Peirce said.

Quinn looked up at the larger man from his bunk. "Excuse me?"

"Sport," Peirce explained. "That's all it is to her. You know that, doncha Captain? She'll use you as a bedwarmer until she's gets bored of you, then she'll drop you like you was nothin'."

Quinn glared at Peirce, and felt an overwhelming sense of annoyance that he was being addressed in such a submissive position. Peirce towered over him, a cruel grin on his face.

The Captain forced himself to look away, back to his datapad. "I assume you're referring to Lord Sevign. There's nothing going on between us; certainly nothing that concerns you."

"Not yet," Peirce said. "I imagine my turn will come later, when she's tired of you and realizes not even a Sith Lord can remove the stick from your arse." He sniffed. "I was never one for sloppy seconds, mind you, but she's not exactly a common bird, is she?"

Quinn was barely cognizant of rising from the bunk. He suddenly found himself in Peirce's face, which delighted the Lieutenant.

"You will not speak that way about our Lord," Quinn said, his tone dangerous. Vette looked up from her datapad, her eyes wide.

"What you gonna do, Captain? Write me up for insubordination? I'm just talkin' here – you're the one that's in my face. Take another step and I'll be happy to defend myself, though."

Quinn glared at Peirce. "I will not repeat myself again, Lieutenant. You will not speak that way about Lord Sevign. You will not disrespect her; nor will you disrespect your commanding officer, which happens to be me."

Peirce smiled. "Apologies, Captain. It's just hard to give respect to the man who spends most of his time sucking Darth Baras' cock."

Quinn shook with anger and before he knew it, his hands had balled into fists, his lips tensed, his nostrils flared. He reared back and punched Peirce directly in the nose.

Quinn was vaguely aware of Vette's shriek.

Peirce stumbled back, touching two fingers to his bloodied nose. He smiled. "I been waitin' for this." He lunged at Quinn, throwing him to the floor. He sank two punches into the floor beside Quinn's head before making contact with his left cheek.

Quinn gained some leverage and latched onto Peirce's elbow; he applied pressure and the larger man howled in anger and Quinn was able to throw him off. The two men got to their feet and before another punch could be thrown, a flash of long, white hair and the power of the force separated them, throwing each of the men against the opposite walls.

"What in the bloody hell is going on here?" Sevign shouted, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Speak!"

Both men launched into loud explanations, attempting to speak over one another. A crowd had gathered; including Vette, Jaesa, Broonmark and even 2V.

"Shut it!" Sevign cried. "It doesn't matter. I don't care. If you've got problems with one another, you had better work them out without fighting. You are a TEAM, for pity's sake. If you insist on dividing yourself in this manner, you will create weakness in this team, and I will _not_ have it. I will not have weak, foolish men fighting alongside me in battle. We fight our enemies, not our own crew."

Silence fell on the crew quarters. Sevign walked up to Peirce, her small frame dwarfed in comparison with his.

"You," she said, pointing a long finger in his face. "This was you. You've been itching to fight Quinn since you met him. I can feel your rage, Lieutenant. It is a beautiful thing, but it is misguided and inappropriate here."

Peirce looked indignant, but definitely afraid of the Sith. "Apologies, my Lord, but I feel I need to mention that he hit me first."

Sevign glared at him. "I have no doubt that he did, after you provoked him. What did you say to make him so angry, Peirce? Some crack about fucking me?"

Peirce's eyes went wide; he was spectacularly inept at hiding his reactions. He blubbered, saying very few actual words. Sevign turned around to Quinn.

"And you…why, Quinn? Why would you let him get under your skin? You are a man of great control, to the point that it irritates even me. You are better than this."

Sevign sighed and let her arms fall to her side. "Rage. Anger. They are useful tools if used the correct way. You will not – _ever again_ – direct them at your fellow crewmembers. If you do, I will kill you myself." She turned around, her eyes sweeping the entire crew, before she settled on one.

"Peirce – I feel this is an appropriate time to remind you that Quinn is your commanding officer and the Captain of this ship. I trust that I don't need to say anything more."

"No, m'lord."

Silence filled the crew quarters again.

"Carry on, then. Quinn, with me. You're bleeding all over the deck. Report to the medical bay, _now_," the Sith Lord commanded, pushing past 2V and Broonmark. Quinn swept a hand across his cheekbone and looked at it. The single blow Peirce managed to land had put a deep gash in his face, and was responsible for the blood that was now staining dripping onto his shirt, boots, and the floor.

He glared at Peirce as he swept out of the room, and avoided the stares of the rest of the crew.

A few moments later he was back in the medical bay. "Close the door behind you," she said, leaning heavily over the exam bed, her face serious. Quinn touched the doorpad and the hatch slid shut with a _sshnk_. He pressed the second pad and locked the door as well.

"Come here."

He obeyed; approaching the exam bed. She pushed gently on his shoulders and he sat on the bed with a wince he tried to hide, but nothing escaped her.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, beginning to dab wet gauze over the area.

"No, it's my back," he answered truthfully. "It's been giving me trouble for weeks, and being body slammed onto the floor didn't help matters."

"I'll run the e-stim over it. You should have told me if you were suffering."

"I wouldn't call it _suffering_, my Lord. Just a mere annoyance," he replied. She took his chin in her steady hands and turned his head to get a better look at the laceration. She dabbed Kolto gel in the crevice.

Silence passed between them for a moment. Quinn watched her while she worked, her face full of concentration and…something else. She was cross with him, he imagined.

"I meant what I said, you know," she began. "You are normally a man of great control, and fighting him was beneath you. You shouldn't have let him get to you."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "But what he said was completely inappropriate and disrespectful, both to me…and you."

"So, I was right?" she said, smirking. "He made a snide remark about sleeping with me. Do you know how many men have done the same? Do you want to venture a guess as to how many of those men are still alive?"

Quinn chuckled silently.

"I do appreciate you defending my honor. Do not believe for a moment that I will let that go unrewarded." Her face turned serious. "Pierce must adapt…and I believe he will be an excellent asset to this team once he does. Until then, I think there will be more tension between the two of you. Please don't fight him."

Quinn reached up and grasped her wrist, stilling her movements. Her eyes met his, surprised.

"I cannot guarantee that, my Lord. If he continues to disrespect you, I will not stand idly by. I have too much respect for you to allow that."

A smile crept over her face. "Even if I give you a direct order?"

He spoke quietly. "Even then."

Her eyes softened and she exhaled, her shoulders falling. Quinn thought she was about to tell him off, but she leaned forward and kissed him, cupping the sides of his face in her hands.

The shock of being kissed again wore off more quickly this time. He snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. He was done trying to pretend he didn't want this, and, not knowing if he would have the chance again (but suspecting that he would), he deepened the kiss and didn't stop until she pulled away, breathless.

She searched his eyes for a moment, before leaning in and resting her head against his.

"This is difficult for me," she said quietly, "being attracted to someone that I'm supposed to be leading. I doubt myself; the best course of action. But I cannot continue to pretend that I don't have feelings for you…strong feelings…I'll not deny that I fancy you, Quinn."

He pushed out a shaky breath.

"It's time I spoke the truth as well, my Lord. Thoughts of you have begun to…distract me. No, that's not the right word. Thoughts of you **_consume_** me. I cannot think properly, cannot serve properly. I am a danger to you in my current condition…"

"Nonsense," she said, her thumbs caressing his cheek. "Our passion makes us stronger. We merely have to confess it, let it grow and take on a life of its own. It is the _tension_ between us that puts us in danger."

Sevign bent and kissed his cheek, his jawline, and then, his neck. He shivered with want; an aching need for her contact. He had fantasized about it for so long and it was so much more than he imagined.

"_Tension_ – I…I confess there is a great deal of that," he said.

"Then allow it relief," she whispered into his ear. He needed no more invitation after that; his hands slid down to her backside and lifted her onto his lap. She laughed softly as he attacked her mouth with his. She ground her hips against him, eliciting a groan from the Captain.

The intercom beeped. The two looked up at the source of the noise and glared murderously at it.

"M'Lord… Peirce here. We've just received an urgent message from Belsavis requesting aid. The local Imperial attachment sent a bunch of reports to review. Should I set a course?"

The Sith Lord's jaw clenched. "Yes, Lieutenant. I'll review the reports with Captain Quinn en route. ETA?"

"Seven hours, m'lord."

"Do it, and don't bother me until we get there," Sevign said sharply.

There was a short pause. "Understood, m'lord." The comm disconnected. Sevign turned back to Quinn, her fingers now finding his black hair and running through it. His eyes fell to half-mast, but he managed to speak.

"Far be it for me to dodge my responsibilities, my lord, but those reports are about the last thing on my mind at the moment."

Sevign's smile was positively carnal. "I agree, Quinn, but it provides a good reason for us to be alone in my quarters for the next seven hours."

"I see your point," Quinn said with a nod.

* * *

_A/N: To be continued, expect the next chapter to be quite smutty..._


	2. Love Interruption

_**I want love to walk right up and bite me **_  
_**Grab a hold of me and fight me leave me dying on the ground. **_

_**And I want love to split my mouth wide open and **_  
_**Cover up my ears and never let me hear a sound. **_

_**I want love to, forget that you offended me **_  
_**Or how you have defended me when everybody tore me down. **_

_**Yeah I want love to change my friends to enemies, **_  
_**Change my friends to enemies and show me how it's all my fault. **_

Jack White, _Love Interruption_

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

Quinn moved through the ship mechanically finishing his duties, checking for messages, and gathering the reports sent by the Belsavis Imperial attachment. There was an impressive amount of material to review, and normally, he would have spent the next several hours familiarizing himself with mission reviews, organizing his med supplies, and resting. It was his normal routine before landing on a new planet…

But the only thing his mind could settle on was her. Lord Sevign had gone to her quarters to "clean up" as she had put it. And her final words to him had been an invitation to join her when he was ready.

He realized he was stalling; it wasn't that he didn't want to be with her, but now that he was facing the next six-and-a-half hours alone with her, he found that his nerves weren't quite as prepared as he'd thought.

Peirce was making himself scarce. Vette was on the bridge; every time she caught Quinn's eye she grinned like an idiot, and seemed on the verge of a burst of laughter. How she knew what was about to transpire was anyone's guess, but as usual, it annoyed him.

Finally, without anything left to be done, he sighed and gathered the datapads in his hands. Vette turned in her seat at the helm.

"Going somewhere?"

He looked up. "To review the large amount of information sent from the planet with Lord Sevign. Mission preparation – same as always."

"Right," she said with a wink, then frowned. "So…you're wearing that?"

He looked down at his Imperial uniform. "I don't see how my clothes are of any significance when preparing for missions…"

Vette rolled her eyes dramatically, stood with a loud sigh, and walked over to Quinn. She took the datapads out of his hands before he could protest and tossed them into the Captain's seat. Quinn looked startled as Vette began combing her fingers through his black hair.

"Vette – what…_stop_," he stuttered. She ignored him.

"At this point you're better prepared for a mission than a romantic evening. Take off that jacket, at least…when did you bathe last?"

Quinn huffed. "That's completely irrelevant, not to mention none of your business," he said, shoving her hands away as she attempted to unbutton his uniform jacket. She slapped his hand and continued her work, jerking the uniform top off shoulders.

"You'll thank me later. Trust me, you want clothes that are easy to take off – these uniforms are impossible to get off and it will totally ruin the moment. I can't even believe there's going to _be_ a moment, but…the least I can do is stop you from embarrassing yourself."

Finally, he stood clad only the simple long-sleeve undershirt. Vette yanked on it and pulled it free of his trousers.

"Vette – _honestly_, I think I can manage on my own," he said, feeling a deep blush creep into his cheeks. "I don't know how you know about…but I'd appreciate it being kept discreet."

Vette grinned. "It's a bit of a gift. Or maybe too many trashy romance novels; I'm not sure. But, listen…a happy Sith is a happy crew. Things have been a bit tense around here lately. So I'm counting on you to not screw this up. You need to go in there and _rock her world_. Make her feel like a woman, all that stuff."

Vette punctuated this statement by giving his arm a weak punch.

Quinn could only stare at her, flummoxed. "You are so annoying."

Vette smiled and stuck a small box in his face. "Breath mint?"

He stood in front of her door clutching the datapads in his sweaty hands. Vette's preparation had done little to soothe his nerves; in fact, he was more anxious than ever. So much depended on what happened next…his tactical mind reviewed every possible consequence in brutal detail.

_You're being stupid_, he told himself. _She invited you here. _

He cleared his throat quietly and rang the chime.

A voice, barely audible. "Come."

The hatch slid open and he stepped quickly inside, closing it behind him. The sounds of the ship outside drowned out and Malavai took notice of his surroundings. The room was darkened except for the controls and the monitor, and two candles burning atop a small altar. He realized this must be part of her meditation ritual; something that he had never been able to master. He found that quieting his mind was an impossible task. But then, he wasn't Force-sensitive…

"Quinn."

He turned and saw her; she was emerging from a rather spacious refresher room. He felt what he could only describe as an electric shock. She had transformed. Sevign wore an ankle-length silk robe in deep blue that revealed a sliver of leg. Her feet were bare. Her hair was damp from the refresher, but she had run her fingers through its lengths leaving it tousled.

"My Lord," he said with a short bow of his head. She smiled, shaking her head.

"Quinn, you don't have to address me so formally. We're in my bedroom; where I sleep, meditate and make love."

His eyes roamed over her but caught on the last thing she had said. "Have there been others?" Quinn asked, and then immediately wished he had not.

But she only smiled softly and took slow steps forward until she stood mere inches from him. "No, there's been only you, Quinn, and my sordid fantasies in which you were the star." She took the datapads from his hands. "Should I call you 'Quinn' or 'Malavai' then?"

He released a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding as he muttered, "I…prefer 'Quinn' actually. But that may be because I've become so fond of the way you say it."

She set the datapads down on her terminal and then closed the distance between them, her hands briefly sliding up his chest, neck, and face before pulling him down into a deep kiss. When she finally pulled away, Quinn marveled at how full and pink her lips had become, the flush of heat in her cheeks. He couldn't wait to see how the rest of her reacted.

"I feel like I've waited an eternity for this," she whispered, her lips ghosting over his. "Ever since the day I met you, on Balmorra, I wanted you. But of course, I wasn't exactly subtle, was I?"

"No," he replied, lips turning up into a smile. "But I never assumed you wanted anything more than to toy with me."

Her hands smoothed down his back; the left resting on his hip and the right kneaded his firm backside. "I have been cruel in the past, for my own amusement. I didn't find as much pleasure in it as I thought I would." She kissed him hard and quick, and met his gaze. "But I can honestly say that I have never felt a _pull_ to another person the way I have with you…"

A stunned sort of expression washed over his face. "I…I had no idea, my lord," he said, his thumbs grazing her jawline. "But I hope you know that the sentiment is mutual. I have always been drawn to power, and you _are_ power. Working alongside you, being your protector, your companion, has been a dream for me that I never thought possible as I languished on Balmorra. It was your power that drew me in…but your beauty, your grace, they _entranced_ me. They kept me wanting more. But then I came to know you, how you exist simultaneously as a fierce warrior, as well as a gentle spirit, capable of both fury and compassion…"

He shook his head, finally at a loss for words, and kissed her.

"I can't believe you're real, my lord," he breathed against her lips.

"Such poetry," she sighed as his kisses travelled down to her neck, "will get you everything you desire." She laughed silently. "And I would compose something as beautiful for you if you weren't stealing my ability to…think…_ooh_…"

She didn't see it, but Quinn smiled. One hand tangled her thick hair; the other slid through the opening of her robe to touch soft, bare skin. He smoothed his hand along her ribcage, then the underside of her breast, his thumb grazing over her nipple. He felt a shiver pass through her. His hand dropped to her hip and pulled her to him with a jerk. She moaned.

Sevign stepped backward, pulling Quinn towards the bed. When she felt the solid frame behind her, she dragged him to her for another kiss while she pulled his tunic up from his waist, then over his head. It was dropped on the floor and forgotten.

Sevign took a moment to slide her long fingers over his naked chest; it was toned and more muscular than she expected. As she touched him he drew a ragged breath; his eyes filling with unabashed arousal.

Her deft fingers slid down his torso and paused at his belt. Kissing him fervently, she released the catch on the belt, and then the buttons of his trousers. He inhaled sharply as her delicate fingers slipped down inside. She dragged her open palm against his straining erection.

A low moan escaped Quinn's mouth; he was quickly losing what control he had left. When he felt her hand grasp him firmly, he became dizzy for a moment. It had been a long time since he'd been touched by a woman, and to be touched by her was enough to undo him completely.

Feeling all inhibitions leaving him, he parted her robe and bent his head to her neck, kissing his way down to her soft breasts. Her head fell back and he lowered her to the bed, covering her torso in kisses before returning to her mouth.

Sevign pushed herself toward the middle of the bed and pulled Quinn on top of her; he lay beside her and continued his exploration of her torso. She arched her back as his hand slid down between her legs, petting the manicured patch of soft hair and slipping a finger between her slick folds. He pulled back to watch her reactions to his touch; nothing gave him more satisfaction than to see her writhe.

She bit her lip and whimpered as his long finger dipped further inside, and then out. He smirked triumphantly.

Quinn pushed himself up on his knees and knelt between hers. She gasped in surprise as his mouth connected with her heated sex, her body arching further forward, seeking more contact. He attacked her clitoris with fervor; he'd fantasized about bringing her to orgasm for weeks, maybe months and he wasn't going to draw this out. His groin ached more by the moment, fueled by her moaning, her gasping, and the way her fingers raked his scalp, twisting in his hair, urging more, more, _more_…

She suddenly tensed beneath him and cried out as her release washed over her; it seemed to go on forever and he wanted it to. He tasted her nectar as he continued to apply pressure and friction until he could siphon nothing more from her body, and she lay still and quiet and quivering in the aftermath, whispering his name over and over.

Quinn sat back, looking down at her. It gave him a sense of masculine pride, this exquisite woman, naked, wet and positively spent. Some evil part of him wished that Peirce could see this, and know that he, Quinn, had been the instrument of her gratification. He licked his lips and tasted her again, trying his hardest to commit it to memory.

She exhaled a long, satisfied sigh.

He lay beside her once again, the way they had started out, and stroked her belly.

"That was…to say that was 'amazing' would be an insult, it was…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "Dare I ask how you got such a talented tongue?" She turned to him, a sensuous smile on her lips.

He didn't answer her; he only smiled.

"Now…" she purred, pushing him onto his back. "Let's see what noises I can coax out of you."

She settled beside him and wasted not a second. Her deft fingers opened his trousers fully and pushed down inside, grasping his swollen length. As her fingers played with him, her mouth laid kisses on his chest, her tongue sliding over the dips and valleys created by his muscles. His chest rose and fell rapidly in anticipation. He breathed a heavy sigh of pleasure as her mouth moved over his body, her hair gently tickling his skin.

Somehow she worked his trousers down while still maintaining her efforts on his upper body. Quinn was lost in between the sensations of her hands, her mouth, her hair. So much so that it was a surprise when her warm, wet mouth enveloped his swollen member. He tensed and let out a low groan, which only encouraged her further. He lifted his head from the bed and looked down at her, but all he could see was a curtain of her hair gently bobbing up and down. He would only last a minute or two if she continued…

He pulled gently on her arm and she stopped to look up at him.

"This will be over all too soon if you keep doing that," he said, his eyes heavy with need. He _wanted_ her to continue, but more than anything he wanted to be inside her, to experience her the way he fantasized about all those nights lying alone and still and hard in his bunk, the way he imagined when he brought about his own release in the refresher, so careful not to make a sound.

The way she looked as she crawled on top of him nearly caused him to finish prematurely. Her hair was a wild mess; the way it looked after a battle. Her eyes were dark and focused. The robe still hung loosely from her shoulders, partially obscuring her body. One taut nipple peeked through the curtain of blue silk as she moved to settle over his hips, her wet core sliding over his agonizing erection. He hissed.

With a sudden jerk, he slid into her, filling her to the hilt. His mind was flung into sensory overload for a moment, and he had just enough control to keep his eyes open. Her mouth fell open and her eyes squeezed shut. She started to move; at first it was slow…smooth. She bent and captured his mouth in a violent kiss; teeth and tongues warring and colliding. And then the she threw her head back once again and increased the pace, her hips crashing into his with strength only a Sith could muster.

Quinn ground his teeth and grasped her by the hips, raising his own body to meet her vigorous surges. Her hands clawed at his chest, her fingernails scraping against his sensitive nipples, and trailed down to where their bodies were joined. Quinn watched in astonishment as she began to stimulate herself. The effect was almost immediate. Within seconds he felt her slick interior begin to contract and pulse around him. This sent him spiraling over the edge.

She let out a sound that was both a groan and a scream, riding out the orgasm and siphoning his with relentless power. His cry was quieter but the whole galaxy could have heard him and he wouldn't have cared. When it finally ended, she collapsed on top of him, her chest heaving against his and her sweat mingling with his.

He put his arms around her.

She rolled to his side and laid her head on his chest. "_Gods_…"

Quinn wasn't certain what to say. His mind was blissfully blank, for once. His heart, on the other hand, felt fit to burst inside his chest, so filled with affection for the woman in his arms he wondered if he might weep. How long it had been since he'd felt a real connection to another person? How long had had he felt so alone? It wasn't something he thought about anymore; just accepted it. Now the chains had been cast off, his heart beat again for something other than the Empire. It was a strange epiphany and he wished that he could stifle it for the moment. It was too much…too much. He blinked.

As if she could sense it, she raised her head and met his eyes. There was concern there, and he berated himself. She was Sith, after all, and she probably _could_ sense the emotion coming off of him in waves. _Get yourself together, damnit._

She considered him for a moment, before a drunken smile spread across her lips. Without words, she kissed him softly, tenderly. Then she settled into the crook of his arm and placed her hand on his chest, her fingers idly exploring his bare skin.

"Watching you lose your composure was quite cathartic for me," she said playfully.

The corners of Quinn's mouth twitched. "I'm happy to provide a boost to your ego, my Lord. I'm certain that it suffers."

"It does," she said earnestly. "Every time I fail to crack that stony façade of yours, it brings me down. I need to know that there is really no one in the galaxy that I can't unhinge."

Quinn cleared his throat. "As I was saying about your ego… _terribly_ wounded. And I _am_ your medic, after all."

Listening to her laughter, and feeling his own spread through his chest, he realized he had not felt this happy in so very long. It was a strange feeling, not unwelcome, but strange. He was a man of facts, of duty. The Empire was his life, his one true love. There was nothing…literally nothing he couldn't do or wouldn't do for its glory.

But in that moment, he questioned himself. Doubted himself.

As she pulled a blanket over their cooled bodies, the smile slid away from his face, and deep in his chest, a feeling of foreboding was born.

Maybe he was being cynical, which was his usual approach. Hope for the best, and plan for the worst, his mother had always said. But in his experience, hope was for fools. Hope amounted to naught whereas careful planning and a cunning spirit won every time. It was easy to live life this way for a man who had no other love but his beloved Empire.

He suddenly realized that the sense of foreboding he felt was knowing that he now loved something that could be taken from him.


End file.
